


The Struggle of Shortness

by TheDarkChocolateLord



Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: Bronte climbs on stuff because he's short and it does not go well, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Mild Angst, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkChocolateLord/pseuds/TheDarkChocolateLord
Summary: While making mallowmelt with Oralie, Bronte is trying to reach ingredients that are far beyond his reach. Being Bronte, he refuses to accept this.
Relationships: Councillor Bronte & Councillor Oralie (Keeper of the Lost Cities), Councillor Bronte & Sophie Foster (Keeper of the Lost Cities), Sophie Foster & Councillor Oralie
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	The Struggle of Shortness

**Author's Note:**

> This was the result of a conversation I had with SemperAeternumQue in the comments of their fic 'Councillor's Daughter'; the premise and some of the dialogue in this came from our discussion. This fic is set directly after theirs, so if you haven't read their fic yet you should check it out!

"That's dangerous."

Bronte looked down from his precarious position atop a chair, a step stool, and a box to see his best friend rolling her eyes at him. 

"Of course it is. That's not going to stop me." He ignored Oralie and reached for the flour.

"Just come down and I'll get it down for you," Oralie offered, her usually-soft voice tinged with exasperation. 

"Do you  _ deliberately  _ keep your baking supplies up this high, or is this just to mess with me?" Bronte muttered as he stretched for the (pink, of course) container. He wouldn't be having this problem if they were at his house, where they  _ should  _ be right now. However, he had run out of sugar, so they had switched to Oralie's kitchen instead. Bronte wasn't a fan of either the pink or the absurd height at which she kept her ingredients. 

He rose onto his tiptoes. Just another inch…..

"Oh, she's definitely messing with you," Sophie called from the couch, where she had collapsed after their most recent inflicting session. She was making no effort to hide her wide grin as he struggled to reach the flour.

_ Teenagers.  _

Though, to be fair, Oralie wasn't keeping a straight face either. "Just come down, okay?" she half-asked, half-laughed.

"I won't give you tall person satisfaction," Bronte declared, his fingers on the edge of the container as he reached forward.

"You could just levitate," Sophie pointed out. 

"Who invited her?" Bronte muttered, only half joking. Of course he should have levitated. He hadn't thought of it, though, and now he was stuck up here, wobbling on top of a too-tall stack of objects just to reach the stupid flour.

"You did," Sophie reminded him.

"Fair point," he sighed.

"I actually had to use telekinesis to get it up there in the first place," Oralie mused.

"You did this  _ just  _ to torment me?" This was a new low. 

"No, I was running out of room and I like having all of my baking supplies in one place, which meant putting some stuff on the top shelf."

"Uh-huh." Bronte managed to sneak his fingers around the edge of the container— _ yes _ —and then his carefully constructed tower collapsed, sending him sprawling to the floor in a clatter of wood and bad decisions. 

Somehow, he managed to land on his feet, holding the flour with both hands.

"Take that." He wasn't exactly sure  _ who  _ was supposed to take  _ what _ , but he had clearly defied someone or something, so the phrase seemed appropriate. 

"Are you okay?" Oralie and Sophie asked at the same time.

"I'm fine." He brushed his jerkin off and set the canister down on the counter. "Now for the chocolate chips."

The cabinet that held the chocolate chips was just above the counter, which meant that if he climbed onto the counter….

He pulled the stepstool over and used it to get himself onto the counter. Wobbling slightly—his boots had slight heels and the counter was narrow—he reached for the chocolate chips.

Oralie looked up from the mixing bowl. "Bronte, that's not safe."

"So is my life." 

With a flick of her hand, Oralie used telekinesis to send the chocolate chips zooming to the countertop. "I've got them.  _ Now come down _ ." 

"Fine," Bronte muttered.

The area he was standing on was small, and moving to a sitting position would be tricky, and there was no way he was jumping, and if he moved the cabinet door would hit him in the head, and…..

"I'm stuck."

Sophie spun around, Imparter in hand, looking like she had just been told that midterms were cancelled and gift-giving was happening early. " _ Seriously _ ? You can't levitate?"

"Where would I get the momentum?" Bronte muttered.

"This is one of the best days of my life." Sophie held her Imparter up, its camera pointed at Bronte. 

"You're taking  _ pictures _ ?" Bronte gasped.

"Video, actually. Team Valiant will love this one."

"Delete it," he commanded.

She didn't budge. "It's not against the law."

"Technically, you're recording information inside a Councillor's castle." It wasn't like him to be a rules lawyer—but saving himself from humiliation was a special case.

"Technically, she has permission to do so," Oralie countered. "It's not hurting anyone."

"I'm going to lose my reputation for being scary at this rate," Bronte grumbled.

"You've  _ already  _ lost your reputation for being scary," Sophie shot back.

"Miss Foster, I am an Ancient, a Councillor and an Inflictor."

Were those his  _ only  _ 'I'm scary' points these days?

"You rode on alicorns with me and my little sister, you told me that you would be proud if you were my father, and you gave me custard bursts during our inflicting session today," Sophie countered.

"You're definitely not scary," Oralie agreed. "There was that time when I dyed your hair pink and—"

"We've lost sight of the larger problem," Bronte interrupted, not wanting Oralie to reveal his entire backstory. "How am I getting down from here?"

"Just jump, okay?" Oralie suggested. "I've got you."

Well, it wouldn't be any  _ more  _ embarrassing than the day had been so far…

Bronte jumped; instead of catching him, Oralie used telekinesis to lower him to the ground. He landed lightly on the floor, then turned to Sophie, "Miss Foster,  _ please  _ tell me you aren't sharing that video with anyone." He shot her his deadliest glare. Not that it worked; Sophie was wearing her  _ defying-authority-figures  _ smirk. 

Well, his teenage self probably would have done the same thing—and teenage Fintan definitely would have. Not that his brother was anyone's role model, yet teenagers did deserve a chance to act their ages, and Sophie was so wrapped up in taking down the Neverseen that it wouldn't hurt to allow her this one moment. She deserved so many more.

Sophie  _ was  _ a lot like his teenage self—powerful, out of their depth, reckless, protective, brave. And even though over five thousand years of life had taught him that friendship usually led to getting hurt, even after he lost his brother and his friend in one night, he'd learned that it was okay to see that, to feel that bond.

"You're getting existential, aren't you?" Sophie wondered, cutting through his ramblings.

He could deny it, as usual. Or…

"I was. It happens to all of us." He looked at the ingredients. "Minor crises aside, do you know where the carmel is?

"I don't use it that often—probably at the back of the top shelf," Oralie replied. "And you are  _ not  _ climbing on things to get it down."

  
  



End file.
